


Beneath the Cherry Blossom Trees

by fhsa_archivist



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-01
Updated: 2005-09-01
Packaged: 2019-02-05 14:29:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12796455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: Remy/Scott. Can Remy pick up the pieces of Scott's heart?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Beneath the Cherry Blossom Trees

By Scyllablue

X-Men: Remy/Scott

Rating: FRAO (And I mean that. Whatever those letters mean.)

Disclaimer: Do not own any of the characters herein.

Author’s Commentary: I am starting a sequel to this, but please don’t expect it any time soon. I am a very slow writer between work and my original stories. Also, I am horrible at returning e-mails, so let me thank everyone who has reviewed or who will. Several have offered very good suggestions, which is always appreciated. I write fan fiction as an exercise in therapy, which is probably why there are about thirty unfinished stories on my hard drive. For those who have asked to see more, I am trying to finish all of the stories languishing about before I move onto new work. Because I am a complete @$$ about returning e-mails, I will never request reviews, but please believe I do read and appreciate them.

 

***

Beneath the Cherry Blossom Trees

It was a soft ache of disquiet that woke Remy LeBeau in the early hours of Tuesday morning. In the two months since Jean Grey’s death on the X-Men’s mission to the Savage Land he had inured himself to the suffering of his teammates. As a beta class empath it was all he could do to block out the others and deal with his own grief. Jean Grey had been a beautiful woman, the heart of the X-Men where her long-time lover Scott Summers was its soul. Resident telepath and matriarch, her loss blanketed the mansion with a pall Remy could almost literally see.

 

The pain that stirred him had to be acute then to feel its stain through his heavy shielding. Slipping himself from bed the thief turned superhero slithered into a pair of cut off shorts before opening himself enough to track his interloper.

 

Downstairs, and he heard his quarry before he saw him, the low thrum of the microwave and the sharp rapping of something metal guiding him into the kitchen. Pausing in the doorway he quietly admired what he discovered.

 

Tall, of a height with Remy’s 6’2, and leanly muscled under lightly tanned skin that highlighted a dusting of freckles across his broad shoulders the man who‘d woken him stood slouched against the kitchen island, spoon tapping as he waited on the microwave. Despite his known strength he moved with a graceful fragility, like the gawky thin boy he’d once been still directed his movements. It was as an endearing trait as his forever mussed tree brown hair. The face turned away from him Remy knew to be of classic Anglo-Irish good looks, offset by a beautifully chiseled full mouth that could rival any woman’s to pout. Scott Summers was an exquisite rendering of masculine beauty and Remy unashamedly took his fill, thrilled to find him roaming the mansion in his boxers. 

 

“Hey, Remy,” the brunette greeted without turning around. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” Glancing over his shoulder Scott invited the thief into the kitchen with a small smile. It seemed genuine, albeit tired. As usual, the X-Men’s team leader was projecting calmness and confidence, despite the turmoil Remy could feel roiling beneath the surface. He hadn’t bothered to swap his narrow sleep goggles for his glasses and Remy almost moaned at the burst of heat that flared in his loins at the sight. Somehow, the goggles made him look more open. Vulnerable. “Help me make hot chocolate?”

 

“Sure, cher.” The man really made it too easy. Remy eyed the chocolate syrup and milk sitting lonely on the island’s countertop and tsked softly. Scooping up the milk he swapped it for half and half, then dug out the cinnamon and almond extract. Scott watched in open amusement, eyebrows arching as Remy shooed him out of the way to dig out a set of measuring spoons. 

 

“I’m thinking you take your hot chocolate seriously,” Scott laughed.

 

“Anything decadent should be taken seriously, Scottie,” the Cajun chastised. The microwave tinged and Remy got down two mugs as Scott carefully retrieved the teapot of boiling water.

 

“It’s good to have you back, Remy. I hope my stomping around didn’t wake you up,” he said as he watched Remy measure out portions.

 

“Non. Remy restless most nights,” the empath assured. He laughed inwardly at the brunette’s self-description, knowing Scott could be as quiet as a thief when he wanted to be. Plucking the spoon from those long fingers, he quickly stirred both mugs before proffering one. “Scottie keepin’ secret a night owl life?”

 

“Thanks,” Scott murmured, wrapping both hands around the warmed ceramic. “Just bad dreams is all.” He didn’t hesitate to take a sip of Remy’s concoction and his delight tickled the younger mutant. “This is really good, Remy. You can make me hot chocolate anytime.”

 

“My pleasure, cher.” And it was. Though he hesitated to act openly on his attraction, Remy did enjoy watching his ever polite, ever desirous leader take pleasure in something, especially in these times. The silence they fell into was comfortable, Remy gently soothing the raw edges of Scott’s pain with his empathy as he sipped his own cocoa. They stood facing each other and the thief luxuriated in the rareness of having this time alone with the man who had unwittingly caught his heart. It upset him, to think Scott was being chased from needed sleep by nightmares. He wanted the man he loved whole and his cunning mind began to churn ideas on how to possess all he desired.

 

Tilting his head, Scott caught sight of the time display on the microwave past Remy's shoulder. "Shit! Remy, it's late. You should go back to bed."

 

"An' you, cher?"

 

Putting his cup in the sink the brunette tiredly shook his head. "I won't be able to go back to sleep, not once the dreams start." Stepping past the Cajun, he made his way to the living room. "I'll just veg for a bit, then head down to the Danger Room."

 

Following his leader to the couch, Remy dropped himself close to the haunted young man, his easy smile undiminished by the countering frown. "Remy sit a spell, homme."

 

Scott shook his head. "You going to hold my hand every time I run from a dream?"

 

"Only de bad ones."

 

"They're all bad," came the whispered reply, barely heard as the lanky body shifted to a more comfortable position. Remy had taken up most of the couch, but Scott didn't comment, just curling as tightly into the corner as he could manage. The red head said nothing more and they lapsed back into familiar quiet.

 

Remy watched the man across from him, confident the exhausted mind would put up little resistance to his charm. He was, of course, correct. By slow increments Scott slipped back into sleep, his breathing evening out as the empath exerted control.

 

"Dere you go, cher. Remy slip you to sleep. Keep you safe from de ghosts eatin' your heart." Slinking to his feet he scooped the older man into his arms and headed for the stairs. Scott mumbled and made a fist in the Cajun's shirt, but did not wake.

 

*

The next night Remy was awake and waiting when he felt Scott's mood darken. Slipping on a pair of sweat pants he padded down the hall and quietly stole into the field leader's room. Putting his back to the door he listened for any sounds that would reveal his excursion had been noted by one of his teammates, but the hallway was quiet. Breathing out a quiet sigh, he turned his attention to the room's sole occupant.

 

Scott Summers was a beauty Remy burned to possess. As a master thief he'd stolen countless works of art, treasures that men had fought and died for. That he sold for their mere dollar value. He'd relished the challenge of acquiring them and the profit they'd later bring, but he'd never understood the gleam in his buyer's eyes, the greedy swirl of emotions when the object of their passions finally fell into their grasp. Trinkets and baubles, lifeless inanimate junk. Worthless compared to the tall lean man laid out before him, sweat sheening his golden pale skin as he fought the hold of another nightmare. Linen sheets rustled as the brunette twisted and jerked, close to waking as the adrenaline in his system started to peak.

 

Waking wasn’t on Remy’s agenda. Padding silently towards the bed he carefully climbed onto the firm mattress, reaching out a hand to one cotton pajama clad knee. The contact allowed him to more quickly re-establish their earlier contact from the night before, Scott immediately calming at the touch of another’s mind against his own. His heart rate slowed and Remy gingerly stretched out alongside him, grinning smugly as Scott snuggled into his arms, head butting under his chin. The older man’s mind settled into a deeper, peaceful sleep, leaving Remy free to explore the treasure he’d inadvertently inherited.

 

He marveled at what the absent Charles Xavier and the dead Jean Grey had created, a man conditioned to telepathic intimacy. From his unauthorized researching in Cerebro's database the thief knew Scott had come to the school after suffering years of abuse and neglect in state foster care and orphanages. A history not so dissimilar to his own. Why the recluse mutant peace activist had chosen a kid with as many problems as Scott must have had Remy could only guess at, but he did know Xavier had used his telepathy to control the then volatile teenager. The man had rebuilt the boy's mind from the ground up, creating the shy, disciplined young man he'd needed to spearhead his infantile X-Men. Remy wondered what Scott's first love had thought when she first entered his mind, because even as novice as Jean Grey had been in those early years, she must have realized Scott's head was too compartmentalized for it to be natural.

 

It was Jean's efforts Remy used now, following the pathways she had roped out to the innermost recesses of Cyclop's mind, stretching his empathic abilities beyond their reach by the grace of her meticulous work. There were old steel doors down here that reeked of the Professor's handiwork, but the redhead knew better than to tamper. Scott's mind was too fragile for him to start throwing open doors into his past. Instead he swept along filling and soothing the ache that tormented the brunette at night. By design or accident Scott had become inured to the sensation of another's mind continuously streaming through his own and could not function alone.

 

Parched for that contact and Remy happily obliged, pouring himself into the waiting mind and washing away the taint of any previous interlopers. Scott pressed into him with a soft sound and Remy tightened his hold. Scott was his.

 

That night became the first of many. As Remy's hold strengthened the nightmares came less frequently until they disappeared altogether. Still Remy stole into the brunette's room. Their connection was strong enough that the empath could have calmed his field leader without leaving the warmth of his own bed, but he acknowledged his weakness in being a tactile creature. He needed to have Scott safe and warm in his arms, even if the brunette would have no memory of him come morning.

 

During the day his field leader treated him with the same amused impatience he always did. It was what had first brought Scott to his attention, the indifference to his sarcasm and flirting with anything legal. So long as he followed orders Scott ignored the smoking, womanizing, and adamant refusal to do anything resembling manual labor. It had confused him the first time he'd blundered, his charm telling him he'd done something to piss off the older man, yet receiving no outward reaction. Scott insisted a team leader had to remain neutral and Remy learned to take comfort in that. No matter what he did, so long as he didn't betray the X-Men and their code of ethics, Scott would treat him no differently than he did the others. It was an understandable position for him to take; being put in charge of people like Wolverine, Rogue and Remy made blindness an occupational requirement. It had come as an epiphany that Cyclops could only deal with them as they came to him, their pasts set aside in favor of what they could give to Charles Xavier's dream. A second chance.

 

Then Jeannie had died and something vital in Scott died with her. A few days after the funeral their leader seemed to return to normal, if a little withdrawn. Everyone trod carefully and Remy was the only one who felt how deeply his still grieved. The man seemed to want his privacy and the thief gave it to him, worried but hopeful time would heal his broken heart.

 

New Orleans and his father called him back to his guild, months spent away from the X-Men trying to keep the peace between thieves and assassins. A stalemate was reached, the best he could ask for, and he returned to New York to find his family still whole, its leader as aloof as ever and quietly dying inside. The man was so exhausted it amazed Remy to see him standing and brusquely ordering everyone about as usual. The only other person who seemed to notice was Logan whose feral senses were heightened enough to smell the emotional distress. The normally antagonistic mutant was unusually quiet, staying to the shadows as he watched their leader live by rote. Remy's return barely registered on Logan, the man as obsessed as any predator stalking his prey.

 

It wasn't until he first saw the older man again, was graced with one of his quiet smiles, that Remy realized his heart had seen to its own affairs. Scott had always held his trust and no little affection, but he'd possessed enough integrity to steer clear of someone else's property. Now the brunette was available and Remy returned to the X-Men with a whole new set of priorities.

 

Logan may have been the acknowledged tracker on the team, but Remy possessed his own skills when it came to pursuing a mark. Which led him to the kitchen that night a few days after his return to learn of Scott's recurring nightmares.

 

To say that Scott treated him no differently by day after unwittingly seeking solace in his arms by night was not entirely true. Not given to casual physical contact, the X-Men field leader had even further withdrawn from the familial hugging and touching after Jean's death, always careful to stay just out of arms reach. Yet for all his wariness he never seemed to notice Remy's hovering. It was as though he'd developed a blind spot to the thief's proximity, a boon the redhead unhesitatingly took advantage of. Nothing overt, just small possessive touches: a hand on one slim hip as he leaned around him to grab a soda; a teasing tug on a crumpled mahogany curl; always sitting close at meals to let the lengths of their bodies rub together. Dozens of fractional intimacies that filled his day, somehow reassuring and absolutely maddening at the same time.

 

“Remy? Little brother, the hour is late to be brooding out here alone. What troubles hold you from sleep?” Ororo Monroe was an angelic vision as she hovered in the air before him. Her control of the wind gently swirled her diaphanous robes about her slender figure and Remy smiled, as always warmed by the sight of his closest friend.

 

“Don’ worry dat pretty head o’ter Remy, Stormie.” What could he truthfully say? His bedroom window was just below, but he’d planned to re-enter the house by the fourth window down, tired of weeks of sneaking through the hall when there was the convenience of the roof. And what was the Windrider doing floating around the men’s wing? Curious, but he could hardly expect her to respect his privacy if he butted into hers, so he chose a truth that told nothing with a shake of the almost forgotten cancer stick in his hand. “Scott won’ let Remy smoke in his own room, do it ére, no evil one-eye.”

 

An indulgent smile and Ororo let him go. “The stench carries farther than you’d think, my friend.” she seemed inclined to say more, but stopped. Their friendship was mostly built on the keeping of secrets. Remy inhaled deeply around the paper wrapping and the African lifted herself on a sudden gust of wind that blew her gown into wings and played havoc with his long red hair. “Enjoy your evening, my friend, but remember not to tarry overlong. We all have to wake in the morning.”

 

So she knew or at least suspected. Remy leisurely finished his cigarette, then nimbly climbed back down into his own room. He doubted Storm knew everything; it was more likely she was bluffing, waiting to see what few cards she held could get her. Better to spend the night alone and monitor Scott from afar than risk fully revealing himself. He could no longer see her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t watching.

 

Propping himself up against the headboard the Cajun amused himself with a deck of cards. He’d grown too used to sleeping with Scott to settle for himself, even for one night. Humming quietly, he stretched open the link and settled down to a long night of tedium.

 

Halfway through a losing hand of solitaire he fell asleep.

 

Remy started, cards scattering across the duvet and onto the floor as he jerked awake. Hysterical panic, grief, and mounting fear choked his breath. He fought for control, to shove Scott’s emotions out of his head. It was instinctive, to close the link so he could separate himself from the brunette’s turmoil. Too late he realized his mistake and he cursed his selfish stupidity as sudden terrified screams broke the stillness.

 

Logan was already in Scott’s room when he made it to the hallway, Bobby and Peter right on his heels. Ignoring everyone but the figure huddled against the headboard, Remy clambered onto the bed and pulled the brunette’s rigid body into his embrace. Scott’s arms were wrapped around his head as he screamed into his knees, an agonized desolate wail that stabbed through what was left of Remy’s heart. What kind of bastard shut an infantile link to a mind that needed such intimacy to keep hold of sanity? Crooning a Creole lullaby his Tante used to sing to him, the thief re-opened the connection and surged into Scott’s scarred mind. It wasn’t till now that he realized the enormity of what he had committed himself to when he bridged a link between their minds. This was forever, unless he could find another psychic to take his half of the bond. An idea he immediately rejected. Scott was his now, and he’d fight tooth and claw against anyone who tried to take him. Jeannie’s death had left such a void in his mind, but Remy had filled it, become a part of Scott’s psyche. There could be no parting them now.

 

The screams stopped. Reassured that there was still someone there with him, Scott quieted. Muscles unclenched and the lanky body sagged into his own, Remy taking the weight gratefully as that much loved tousled brown head dropped to his shoulder with a quiet exhalation. 

 

The peace was brief. With a deep growl his only warning Scott was abruptly torn from his arms and Remy found himself on the floor with one of Wolverine’s claws centimeters from his left eye. Ignoring the immediate threat, the redhead rolled his eyes until he saw a dazed Scott folded in Peter’s massive arms. Reassured to his safety, Remy re-focused on his own precarious situation.

 

“Ya mind tell’n me what yer doin’ ta Slim, swamp rat?” Logan growled, his rank breath of cigars, whiskey, and raw meat making Remy’s aquiline nose wrinkle.

 

“Remy calm Scottie’s nightmare, dat all. Jus’a lit’le charm to soothe de heart.” He kept his voice level and let none of his fear leak our for the feral to catch whiff of. They may have come from different worlds for all that they had in common but Remy understood the predator that dominated the older man’s personality. Fear made you prey and Wolverine killed his prey.

 

“Logan. Get off him. Now.” The voice was weak but lacked none of its command. Scott Summers was a man who expected obedience, even from his most rebellious subordinates. What Remy envied and respected was that he got it. With a last warning growl Logan rolled off him and he was able to slide to his feet.

 

Arms wrapped protectively about his waist Scott looked too pale and wobbly to be standing on his own, but he managed, stubbornly ignoring Peter’s hovering at his back as he glared at the two men before him. In his low slung dark blue pajama bottoms and sleep goggles glaring a thin red glow he was kissably adorable, but Remy refrained from putting thought to action.

 

“Logan, Bobby, Peter, everything’s fine. Get out.”

 

“Scott, are you sure you’re - “ the teenage popsicle began, but the words petered out when Scott slowly swung his head to level him with a trademark glare.

 

“Now.”

 

They went. Logan made a point of shouldering Remy on his way past and quietly promising to finish with him later, but he left. Leaving Remy alone with his brunette. He wanted to take Scott into his arms before the man fell down and bury them back beneath the covers of the king sized bed, but he held himself still. Patient for Scott to make the first move.

 

A minute slipped past, then two. Scott stared at him blankly, but he could feel the brunette probing the link he was now consciously aware of. Physically and psychically, Remy waited until finally, Scott looked away, hugging himself tighter.

 

“You’re in my head.” It wasn’t a question, but Remy answered anyway.

 

“Oui.”

 

“I thought I could do this, but it hurts too much,” the slender mutant whispered, more to himself than his audience, but Remy heard anyway. Then, that red glare re-focused on him. “What do you want from this? What do you want from me?”

 

“You, amour,” Remy quietly replied, daring to take a step closer. “Remy want you.”

 

A harsh, disbelieving bark of laughter, but Scott held his ground. “Me? You already have me, you’re in my head!”

 

Another step and the shivering older man was within arms’ reach. “Remy wants all of you.”

 

Mahogany curls fell across his high forehead as Scott slumped. “There’s nothing here to want. Can you understand that, Remy? Je-Jean was the best part of me. You’ve seen, you know, I’m not a complete person. This is just, you don’t know what you’re getting into, what kind of pathetic leech I am. I think-”

 

Remy tuned out the rest when he realized Scott wasn’t rejecting him. Too late Scott looked up and caught his approach. A step back and Remy’s arms were around him, spinning to put them back to front, pressed close enough together by the Cajun’s capturing arm that the brunette’s shivers vibrated his frame. His other hand gently cut off the tirade. Scott stiffened at the restraint, but didn’t struggle.

 

He’d never had the opportunity to hold his broken X-Man like this and Remy found he quite enjoyed the possessive clasp. Breath whistled through Scott’s slightly upturned straight little Irish nose and the thief blew a puff of air into the ear next to his mouth to smile at the surprised start.

 

“Remy will complete you, amour.” The promise darkened Scott’s ruby quartz goggles. Remy took the opportunity to gather him up and carry him back to the bed. The brunette almost seemed grateful to lay down and didn’t protest Remy stretching out alongside him, slowly pulling up the thick comforter to cover them both. The breadth of a body lay between them at first, but by slow increments Scott scooted closer till his cheek pressed into the Cajun’s bare shoulder. His hands nervously fluttered about until Remy caught them within his own and pressed them to his chest.

 

“No more nightmares, Scottie,” he whispered, palming one bony hip as he kissed a lock of hair that smelt of cloves, but Scott was already asleep.

 

*

Morning came later than Remy had grown used to, for the first time in weeks not having to rouse himself before dawn to sneak back to his own room. Scott’s warm weight was a familiar comfort, but slowly another sensation began to creep into his waking. He was being touched. With soft hesitancy he felt the subtle roughness of fingertips stroking his face, arms and chest, mapping the contours of his flesh. Keeping himself still with the looseness of sleep Remy cracked open one eye to see Slim studying him, serious expression broken by the bottom lip being gnawed upon. The X-Men field leader was curious, yet uncertain, and probing the man’s emotions a little deeper, attracted and afraid. Considering he’d been worried that Scott would greet him with an optic blast upon finding himself in another man’s arms, Remy took his reaction as hopeful. Any response that left him intact and non-smoldering had to be a good sign.

 

His morning erection chose that moment to make itself known. Normally he took care of it in the shower, fantasizing about the man in his arms, but the devil in him urged reckless boldness. Scott had separated them marginally to conduct his exploration, but the redhead was confident he was normal enough to share the male affliction. Tightening his grip on the hip he’d claimed last night Remy rocked them together, groaning softly at the pleasurable sensation of another man’s hardness grinding into his own.

 

Scott gasped, pretty mouth falling open and Remy opened his eyes as he leaned in to claim a kiss. There was shocked resistance at first, but the Cajun persisted, dulling the brunette’s fear and hesitancy, and heightening his arousal until with a delicate shiver Scott surrendered.

 

Kissing the shy field leader disarmed what moral fortitude Remy aspired to. Submissive and playful at the same time, Scott relaxed to his tongue’s entreaty only to chase it about with his own, teeth nipping, his whole body giving in to the possession of mouth on mouth. Strong, long fingered square hands clutched desperately at his shoulders, neither pushing away nor pulling closer as the brunette moaned, soft breathy sounds that fueled Remy’s ardor.

 

His hand traveled from the slope of Slim’s hip to the small of his back, lightly kneading the muscles as he inched his way ever lower. The drawstring pants he’d appreciated the night before proved a boon to him now, easily giving way to his questing hand. The small, pert ass he’d admired since the first time he saw it was as firm as he’d imagined, his proprietary squeeze earning him a sharp grunt.

 

“Bon,” he breathed, rocking them together as he kissed a path down Scott’s throat. “Give yourself to me.”

 

“Ah! If you’re going to say that shit to me - fuck! - say it in French.” Tousled head tossed back Scott eagerly thrust his covered erection against Remy’s, squirming and moaning as the Cajun massaged the thin skin surrounding the entrance to his body.

 

Remy chuckled, but did as asked. “Donnez-vous, amour. //Give yourself, love. Let me feel your pleasure.// Slickened with sweat Remy’s finger pressed into Scott’s body, sinking deeply. Scott frowned at the odd sensation of being penetrated, instinctively tightening his rectal muscles to push the intruder out.

 

“Am I hurting you, cher?” The redhead soothed, swallowing thickly at the tightness crushing his finger. It was exquisite and made his cock ache, imagining Scott squeezing something significantly larger. Introducing his lover slowly to the joys of anal sex was going to kill him.

 

“No,” Scott whispered, tentatively squirming on his finger. Then Remy found his prostate and scraped it, shooting off a bolt of pleasure. “Ah!” Scott’s hips rocked into his own in a reflexive jerk.

 

“Like dat, did ya?”

 

“Yes,” Scott panted, a blush staining his cheeks. The thief grinned and kissed him, lazily rubbing his erection against its mate. The brunette submitted to the kiss for a few moments but pulled away when Remy’s finger stayed still inside his body. Frustration spiked and Scott impatiently rocked his hips. “Dammit, Remy!”

 

//What, love?// Red eyes twinkled as he thrust his finger in and out but deliberately avoided his prostate. //Tell Remy what you want him to do.//

 

Scott growled, nails cutting into Remy’s flesh where he gripped his arms. “You bastard.”

 

“Say it, Scottie,” Remy laughed, dipping his head to peck that pert nose, but the brunette angrily jerked away. //Say what you want or Remy leave you like this. Begging like a sweet tart to have your every whimper of ecstasy eaten as I gorge myself on your succulent flesh before filling you with-//

 

Brown hair whipped his face as Scott snorted, shoving him none to lightly in the chest. “You’re full of shit and don’t tell me those lines actually work on someone. Sweet tart? You’re as hard as I am.” He rubbed them together to emphasize his point.

 

Remy shrugged, hiding his surprise that Scott understood his French. “Remy used to pining for you. He know dis pain.” Feeling Scott’s angered frustration was about to truly leave them both unsatisfied, the last thing he wanted his teasing to do, he lightly massaged that little hidden button, reminding Slim of the ecstasy to come. “Come, amour, play wit’ Remy.”

 

Scott moaned at the ghost of sensation. “Nnnn. Do that-” He stopped, a blush again warming his cheeks as he licked his lips. //Please do that again, Remy. Please, touch me.// Voice a little shaky as he tried not to laugh but his French was perfect, with a slight Parisian accent Hank McCoy probably didn’t realize he stained his lessons with.

 

“Of course, cher.” Remy pressed his prostate hard, the sudden spike of pained pleasure catapulting his lover into orgasm. A cry muffled into his shoulder and he felt the spread of wetness against his own underwear before he rode Scott’s release into his own.

 

They drifted for a time after that, neither inclined to disturb the sated comfort of the moment. Remy wasn’t certain if he fell back asleep, but he roused when Scott moved against him. There was noise in the hall, Bobby’s loud laughter coming clearly through the walls. The rest of the mansion was stirring and Scott rose up to his elbows, leaning over his bedmate as he yawned and looked towards the bathroom.

 

“Time to get up, cher?”

 

“Yeah. I have a Danger Room session at seven. Actually, so do you. And we both need a shower.”

 

“Oui.” Remy compliantly agreed, stroking his finger deeper into Scott’s body. The brunette shuddered deliciously so Remy did it again.

 

“Remy. Shower.” There was more than a hint of the field leader in the growled words, clear warning Scott was serious. Remy slid the finger free, kissing the smooth chest above him to soothe away the wince of discomfort.

 

“Remy wash Scottie’s back?” he offered hopefully.

 

Slim snorted as he clambered from the bed. “I doubt I’d get very clean if I let you wash any part of me.” He smiled then, before stepping away, reaching down to finger a lock of reddish brown hair. “Thank you.”

 

Remy rolled over onto his stomach to watch his lover’s strong lean backside disappear into the adjoining bathroom. “Don’ worry, Scottie. I’ll take care of you.”

 

*

The day went as any other when they weren’t saving the world or being viciously attacked by it. Everyone seemed to know where Remy had spent the night, but no one was willing to openly address it. Their field leader was still withdrawn, but the shadows in his eyes had lightened and at moments he moved with his old grace. Ororo seemed the most pleased, nearly beaming with her joy, but refrained from assaulting them with it. During practice Gambit treated his new lover as Cyclops, leader of the X-Men, and noticed the older man’s tension ease. And though it took execution to realize it, Remy knew the game well enough that Scott needed to separate the lover from the hero to accept their relationship.

 

What reassured in the Danger Room quickly twisted into doubt, however, when Remy thought to make a public display of respecting his lover’s space. Though there was no outward reaction to Remy keeping their chairs at the lunch table apart, the thief was suddenly grateful for his empathy as he felt the flash of anger, quickly followed by hurt and self-doubt. The proprietary hand he settled onto one knee almost got knocked off, but sulking anger gave way to amused affront when he casually filched the strawberries from the brunette’s plate. His fork stabbed out for the last one, but before he could savor his prize his wrist was caught and Scott bit the berry from the tines without turning from his discussion of astrology with Hank. Across the table Kitty giggled and Remy flicked his fingers at her.

 

Later that night, as David Letterman was winding to a close in the communal room, Remy excused himself and slipped upstairs to the Professor’s study. With Xavier on hiatus Scott had taken over the space and the duties that went with it. Remy found him hunched over the old cherry wood desk, a pen absently being chewed as he shuffled paper from one stack to another.

 

“Time for bed, cher,” he said from the doorway.

 

Scott didn’t look up, mumbling around the pen. “In a few.”

 

“Non. In this, you can’t fool Remy. He can feel, Scottie almost asleep where he sit. Time for bed now.” There was temptation to use his charm, to sweep Scott under, but the brunette was too aware of him now and their trust too new. If Scott felt he was losing control he would resist, would fight their link and Remy’s claiming of his bed. Sweetest irony that years spent tumbling from one forgettable affair to another now gave him the experience to woo a man as pure as Scott Summers. No heavy chains could hold such an independent soul, but the finest of gossamer webs would fastly secure. “Come wit’ me, cher.”

 

And Scott relented, surrendering to his exhaustion and that sultry pleading voice. In the doorway Remy caught him in a kiss, reward and promise that coaxed greedy little noises from the back of his throat, body shuddering under the nimble hands that mapped it. Up against the doorjamb and Remy wove his fingers through the thick sable of Scott’s hair, holding him in place and protecting his head from banging into the hard wood. His other hand swept down the strong lean back, a thief’s dexterity wiggling him past fitted slacks and the elastic waistband of boxers to palm warm, firm flesh. Merci, Scott had an ass.

 

“Want you,” he husked, pulling sharply on his handful of hair to lay claim to the taut column of throat. Pulse beating rapidly just beneath the skin and he suckled, raising the blood until he’d left a passion mark no one could mistake. This man was his.

 

Scott led the way to his bedroom and did not question Remy following at his heels. A swirl of arousal, trepidation and exhaustion thickened the air in the room and Scott escaped into the bathroom. Remy took the opportunity to secure the door and draw the drapes, remembering just last night Ororo had been doing flybys over the men’s wing. Stripping to the skin he slipped beneath the covers before Scott finished his ablutions.

 

Propped on one elbow, he lazily watched a scrubbed clean Slim cross to the bed, sleep goggles in place, T-shirt and boxers hugging his lean frame with the comfort of old familiarity. Without a word the older man climbed into bed and Remy reached for the lights. Plunged into shadowed darkness and the rustle of bedclothes was the only sound to be heard over soft breathing as the two men settled into the other’s closeness.

 

Scott seemed inclined to keep to his side of the bed, hugging himself and facing the outside as he tried to relax, but Remy closed the distance. With a soft grunt on his part Scott was yanked back to lay them flush, Remy’s arms curling about him as a leg nudged between his own. The brunette’s hair was slightly damp and Remy happily buried his nose to breath him in, ready to sleep now that he had his most loved secure in his arms.

 

“Comfortable?” Scott grumped, wiggling slightly in his clasp. He managed to free an arm but Remy snatched it back, fingers interlacing on the pillow.

 

“Oui. Now sleep.”

 

Scott wiggled again, then abruptly froze in shock. “Remy, what are you wearing?”

 

It was almost a stage whisper and the redhead grinned into the thick locks. “N’ting, cher.”

 

“You’re naked!” The older man attempted to roll away, but Remy tightened his grip. “Let go! What if we’re attacked? If there’s an emergency?”

 

With a dexterous twist the thief had his field leader under him, hands still clasped on the pillow as he used his weight to trap Scott’s other arm between them. His free hand languidly stroked the leanly muscled flank, up to his slightly jutting ribcage and back down again. Scott had lost weight, not that it didn’t look good on him. “Remy don’ need his smallclothes to fight. Sleep better this way. Even better, if Scottie let me,” he reared up to tug at the concealing T-shirt, but the brunette’s hand was there to stop him.

 

“No.” Shy embarrassment and lingering doubt caused the gentle flush to stain his cheeks and Remy knew he could force the intimacy if he pushed. But why push when patience would reward? “Bien, cher. We sleep as we are, eh?” A jerky nod and they returned to their earlier positions, Scott lying stiff. Long minutes passed, but when Remy made no other move than to hold him, he relaxed. Shortly after that, he slept.

 

Listening to his deep breathing Remy cautiously tested the tethering of their bond, pleased to find it still firmly rooted. All of his protests aside, Scott had done nothing to distance himself mentally, and that told the empath more than his physical reluctance did.

 

Scott Summers had accepted his courtship.

 

*


	2. Chapter 2

Seven weeks. Coming into the lounge area Remy sprawled on the floor in front of the couch his boyfriend had claimed the length of. Without taking his eyes from the Austin Powers movie the brunette leaned into the kiss bestowed upon his cheek and reached a hand down for the glass of wine the thief had brought with him. Remy graciously surrendered the glass, but when the hand descended again he took the glass and kept hold of the attached bony wrist. A kiss to the pulse point and peripherally he caught Scott’s small smile.

 

He held Scott’s hand through the rest of the movie and into the next one. No one else in the room took obvious notice of the intimacy, by now used to the small displays of affection. Though they had never made a public announcement of their relationship, it hadn’t taken the rest of the mansion long to catch on. Surprisingly, there hadn’t been an uproar over the team’s resident black sheep moving his things into the Heir Apparent’s bedroom. Ororo had cornered him one evening, to proudly state that he, Remy LeBeau, was proving a healing and loving influence in Scott’s life. Her opinion seemed the consensus. He realized his fortunate timing, in pursuing his love interest when the most lenient and forgiving of the X-Men were in residence. There were still battles ahead he knew, when Warren, one of Scott’s oldest friends and a man Remy shared a reciprocating dislike for, and Scott’s oddly over-protective little brother Alex learned of their relationship. Both of them were likely to take a disapproving view of Remy with Scott, but when that time came he planned on being firmly entrenched in Scott’s mind and heart.

 

By their shy innuendo and teasing jokes, Remy knew the rest of the mansion thought they were wholly intimate. Obviously they had forgotten his forced celibacy with Rogue. While certainly a man of healthy sexual appetite, he was also a man of patience and expert timing. It was what made him an excellent thief. Without saying a word Scott would let him know when he was ready and until then he would bide his time.

 

Movie night ended with Bobby crowing for an encore, a twinkie in each hand as he performed an obscure ritual dance until Logan chased him upstairs. Scott laughed to the sounds of Bobby screaming “Anything but my twinkie, you ruffian!”, and Remy took advantage of the now empty public room to kiss him. He wanted to swallow down such delicate joy, to always hold it within himself to give back when Scott could not find it on his own. With a giggle and a hiccup Scott returned the endearment, one hand lifting to tangle in dark red hair. The kiss was slow and languid, the way Scott seemed to like things and pleasing Remy immensely. Their tongues lazily slid about each other, until with a final lick to the inside of his cheek the older man pulled away. Not for the first time Remy wished he could see his Scottie’s baby blues, but felt his lambent desire curl about him regardless. Scottie was horny.

 

“Upstairs,” came the quiet voice and Remy nodded.

 

“Oui, amour.” Hand in hand they made their way upstairs, Remy’s free hand touching the other man as it was wont. Scott leaned into the caresses with small noises of approval that encouraged Remy along. The mercurial brunette had proved surprisingly eager to being touched, an affection his boyfriend took shameless advantage of.

 

The bedroom door closed behind them with a satisfying ‘click’ and Scott grinned as Remy spun him about so they were chest to chest, the brunette’s captured hand at the small of his back. Scott squirmed playfully, biting his bottom lip before lifting his face to Remy’s ardent kiss.

 

This was familiar for them now, the comfort of tongues slicking against one another, crotches grinding together as hands freely explored. Familiar enough that Scott no longer flinched to feel a man’s hand stroking his flat stomach. He arched into the contact, hips undulating, and Remy moaned. Mon dieu, he wanted this man. More than anything else in the world and he silently prayed Scott would surrender the last innocence between them.

 

The first step was the bed. Two lean bodies tumbled onto it still locked together, Remy cleverly divesting the brunette of his shirt in the process. Taking a brown nipple between his teeth he sucked it into a swollen hardness, Scott’s moans of approval accompanied by clutching hands that tore at his shirt. Wiggling about, Remy let the brunette briefly support his weight as he shed the restricting garment, mouth firmly latched to that one reddened nipple.

 

As soon as his chest was bare Scott’s hands were mapping the smooth expanse, running as far down as he could reach, then up his sides and over his shoulder blades. There was a slight tremble in those hands, but Remy knew it was from desire. Giving his tortured nipple a parting lick the Cajun tongued his way down the hills and valleys of his lover’s muscled abdomen.

 

“Remy!” Obeying that insistent tug on his hair Remy rose up to kneel over a panting Slim, accepting his frenzied kiss as his due. Scott’s jeans were tight over his crotch and his hips bucked wildly when Remy massaged the trapped hardness with his palm. He grinned against Scott’s mouth, enjoying his groans of torment. “You damn tease!”

 

“Up, up,” Remy muttered, deftly undoing button and zipper. Scott arched his hips even as he scooted backwards, his jeans and briefs peeling off to expose his beautiful maleness to his lover’s eager mouth. The Cajun deep throated him in one swallow, pressing the slim hips to the mattress as Scott yelped and his entire body convulsed. Remy had seen more than his share of dicks and what amazed him about Scott’s was its smoothness. It felt like wet silk on his tongue and he gently applied his teeth on his way back up. Scott squealed and thrashed, a hand taking a death grip on Remy’s hair.

 

“Fuck! Remy!” Scott’s body curled up around his sadistic lover, legs bending and spreading further apart. Remy ignored the hand trying to rend him bald, bobbing with agonizing slowness, using teeth and tongue at random to keep the brunette further on edge. Scott was whimpering and Remy shifted his weight, sliding one forearm across his lover’s hips to hold him down. His other hand he lifted to Scott’s mouth and his fingers were eagerly taken in, laved and suckled until he yanked them free. Down past his balls and Remy briefly massaged his perineum before he wedged two fingers into Scott’s tight hole.

 

Slim grunted at the penetration but didn’t pull away, encouraging Remy to thrust his fingers deeper, as far as they would go before he had to pull back. Above him Scott moaned and so he did it again, establishing a rhythm between fingers and mouth. Close, so close, and Remy reluctantly pulled away, rising up to capture that protesting mouth in a deep kiss.

 

“No, no, please, Remy, don’t stop.” Scott tossed his head, denying the kiss as he squirmed on the fingers still opening his ass. Fighting for his own control Remy latched onto his neck, sucking and nibbling.

 

“I want in you, Slim. Reach into de nightstand and get me de lube an’ condom.” He wouldn’t force this. If Scott wanted him, he’d take the next step in their dance.

 

Scott hesitated for only a few minutes before he snaked out a long arm and fumbled open the nightstand’s drawer. A thin tube of lube flew at Remy’s head, which he deftly caught, but he refused the foil wrapped condom. 

 

“Non, amour, Scottie put dat on me, eh?” Another test, another chance for the older man to back out, but Scott just glared and ripped open the package. His fingers were shaking but he managed, rolling the clear rubber down Remy’s throbbing shaft. The red head caught his hand before it could retreat, squirting a rope of lube across his palm before guiding his hand back to his erection. “Slick me up, cher.” Using the fingers he had buried in his ass to tilt his hips slightly, he spread his fingers and slipped the opening of the tube into Scott’s hole, squeezing out another dollop that he quickly spread about. Scott gasped at the sensation of the cold slick. “Shhh, cher, we ready to make dis happen.”

 

Pulling out his fingers, Remy wiped them on the bedspread before he guided Scott’s arms around his shoulders. “Hold on, cher. Dis gonna hurt de first time,” he whispered, smoothing his hands down the tensed back before cupping his ass and lifting. A cheek in each hand and he spread them apart as he guided Scott onto his lap. His cock nudged against his wet opening and then he pressed in.

 

Scott gasped and his arms tightened, arching himself closer. The first stab of pain was sharp and Remy made to soften it, but the brunette protested. “No, don’t dull it, Rem’. I want to feel everything.”

 

“Okay, cher, but let’s lay you back, eh?” Slipping one leg over his shoulder he pressed Scott back onto the mattress as he carefully rocked his entire length into his lover’s contracting hole. Fingers dug at his shoulders as Scott panted and moaned, his other leg curling about Remy’s waist, hips jerking in tandem to his thrusts. Agonizing, and Remy released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding until his balls smacked Scott’s ass and he gulped in a lungful of air. He dropped his forehead to Scott’s, sharing a grin as he reached up to wipe at the dampness on golden cheeks. For some reason he thought Cyclops couldn‘t cry. “Bien?”

 

“Can we not move yet?” Scott asked, licking his lips as he tentatively shifted on the ten inches impaling his body. “I think I like this.”

 

“Full?”

 

“Yeah.” He blushed and the red light dimmed behind his glasses. //You’re inside every part of me. My mind, my body . . .surrounding me. Having you inside makes me feel whole.//

 

What a bizarre quirk his lover had developed, only wanting to express his heart in French. //I have wanted this for so long, love. Want to be inside you forever.// Biting the tip of his nose, Remy pulled partway out then snapped his hips forward, watching the red flare as that pretty mouth fell open on a sharp cry of pleasure. //Remy an em’pat, ‘member? We can do this for hours.//

 

//I don’t think - Oh God!// he squealed at a particularly hard thrust that aimed at his prostate. Remy set a broken rhythm, never letting Scott relax into one pace before switching into another. He seemed to like the deeper thrusts, crying out with each plunge into his depths, his entire body contracting at the near painful invasion. Still he arched into the rough penetration, his mind a sweltering morass of arousal, need, and bleeding through it all, love. Remy moaned, succumbing to the irresistible allure, losing himself to Scott’s emotions and body. Sweetest nectar and he reached for one of his pert little brown nipples, pinching and twisting the nub that made the brunette scream.

 

“Remy!” Scott came as he wailed, fisting the sheets and writhing deliciously. His ass seemed to suck the thief in, contracting to the point of agony about Remy’s cock. Come splattered their stomachs, cooling quickly as Remy continued to fuck Scott’s hole, grunting at the effort and the way it prolonged the brunette’s orgasm. The ruby quartz of Scott’s glasses was nearly black as he bonelessly fell back to the mattress, his leg about Remy’s waist sliding off. Pleasure traveled through him in waves and he weakly rocked his hips to the redhead’s pistoning, mouth open as he struggled to capture back his breath.

 

Breath Remy quickly stole as he kissed him hard, opening the link wide between them as he reached completion. His cock jerked and heat bathed Scott’s innards, a virgin sensation that made Slim gasp and shudder. Remy’s orgasm rolled through him, setting off small explosions of pleasure that fed back along to the empath. For an eternity after they had reached physical completion they continued to reap the rewards, mouths languidly moving one over the other as the ripples slowly eddied out. It was an exercise Remy had never had the emotional connection to another soul to try and he gloried in the results.

 

Scott moaned a protest as Remy eventually broke away, panting and flushed with triumph. At some point, he’d let the brunette’s leg from his shoulder, but his partially erect penis was still rooted in the shivering body beneath him. He gently kissed his nose, his cheeks, peppering his heated flesh until Scott softly laughed and swatted at him. “Enough!”

 

“But Remy love de taste of Scottie,” the redhead protested. Supporting himself with one hand, he reached between them to gather a smearing of his lover’s spent seed. “Every taste.”

 

If not for the glasses Remy would have seen Scott’s eyes widen as he licked his fingers, but he felt his shock and small stirring of arousal. “That’s, that’s kinda gross.”

 

Remy laughed, not taking insult for the brunette did not twist away as he bent his head to share his taste. He stroked his tongue into the warm cavity, laving Scott’s tongue. When he pulled back Scott was making a face, but it wasn’t one of disgust. “Scottie taste good. Kinda spicy.”

 

“Weird,” Scott agreed, unconsciously licking his lips. Shifting his weight, Remy started to ease his sated length from its sheath, but Scott clutched at him. “No, don’t leave. Stay.”

 

“Oui, tart, Remy stay.” He rolled them onto their sides, Scott lifting his leg to drape over his hips. He could spend every night in this man’s body and he smiled into chocolate brown hair to hear the desire returned. Lightly massaging Scott’s strong back as he drifted towards sleep he slipped a hand down his cleft to feel where his thick meat breached his beloved’s body. Slim moaned but didn’t wake, too exhausted from their loveplay to protest. Their bond was inviolate, complete, and the sure sense that he had conquered the world followed Remy into his dreams.

 

*

Quiet masculine laughter tumbled out of the kitchen in accompaniment to a swirling of warmly flavored smells. It was late afternoon, betwixt lunch and dinner, a time that normally promised privacy in one of the common areas of the mansion. Having missed lunch in favor of finishing the maintenance on their motorcycles Cyclops and Gambit were left to their own foraging skills.

 

“Belle, Remy beg you, what you dink you’re doing?”

 

Arching an eyebrow at the endearment Scott shook the bottle of dressing he held over the plate of shrimp. “It’s ranch dressing.”

 

“Oui, Remy knows what it is.” The Cajun gently took the bottle and carefully set it to the side. “Dressing for leaves.”

 

Scott eyed the bottle peeking out from behind his lover, chewing his bottom lip as he contemplated his chances of rescuing it. “Ranch is the new ketchup. It goes with everything.”

 

“You wound my heart, cher,” Remy cried, clutching at his chest. His lover laughed, leaning the distance that separated them to kiss him passionately. It was a clever attempt at distraction and Remy accepted the invitation to plumb his lover’s mouth. He swirled his amusement through Scott’s mind, silent laughter as he caught the wandering hands and shoved them back. Breaking away he scooped up the tray of shrimp and jabbed it into Scott’s stomach, forcing him to grab it. “To the vernan wit’ you, taquinez. Remy bring de drinks, non?”

 

“Okay. Bring me something to dip these in.” Heading out the door he tossed a smile over his shoulder and almost ran into Wolverine. “Oops,” he laughed. “Hey, Logan.”

 

“Slim,” the feral mutant acknowledged, nose twitching as he watched that lean backside sashay away. When the brunette disappeared around the corner Logan turned back to the kitchen, smirking. “LeBeau.”

 

The man was blocking, but Remy could still pick up heavy wafts of jealously and lust. With graceful nonchalance the Cajun gave his back to the other mutant to dig into the refrigerator. “Logan.” Tomatoes, onions, lemon juice and mayonnaise filled Remy’s hands and he dumped them on the counter. Cutting sheet, knife and bowl, and he methodically prepared a shrimp sauce, acutely aware of the man watching him from a few feet away. Wolverine had been surprisingly quiet about their relationship, but Remy expected his reprieve was about to end.

 

“Wondered how long it was gonna take you to fuck Slim.” Remy ignored the words, knowing Wolverine was just looking for a reaction. “Man smells good with yer sex all over him. Don’ smell like death no more. Seems happy enough. Just ain’t sure yer the right man to be takin’ up with Jeannie’s Slim.”

 

And to your way the thinkin’ that should be you? Remy silently scoffed. Unfortunate for him, he was just a beast that could not meet Scott‘s specialized needs. “Dat your say, Logan?”

 

“Plain enough. Slim’s the only thing keepin’ this family together. I find yer playin’ him and yer rathole in New Orleans won’t be deep enough to hide in.”

 

The sauce was done and putting back the mayo and lemon juice Remy grabbed two lagers. Easily juggling everything the thief turned hero executed a short bow to his acknowledged and defeated rival. “Nous avons un accord.” We have an agreement.

 

*

It made international news when a group of school children, including a Senator’s daughter, were abducted by an anti-mutant terrorist cell. Senator Rumskin was a vocal human-mutant rights activist who had publicly decried the Mutant Registration Act and mutant profiling. FBI Assistant Director Valerie Cooper was anticipating the worst as no demands had been made throughout the passing of the day, but she was determined to maintain the uneasy truce that currently existed between mutants and humans.

 

“S.H.I.E.L.D. is already stretched too thin between Kosovo and Spain, and the Avengers are out of contact in space.” The handsome blonde woman clenched her jaw, visibly calming herself. “I need a happy ending to this, Cyclops. I understand relations are strained between the X-Men and the White House at the moment, but if these children are not recovered, then I fear tensions will escalate.”

 

“The X-Men are at your disposal, Ms. Cooper. Please send what information you have. Cyclops out.” The screen went black with a soft click and Scott slumped back into his seat, rubbing a tired hand over his face. Stepping out of the shadows Remy came up to grip his lover’s shoulder. A wave of warmth and buoying energy washed over him, the exhaustion bleeding away. Briefly closing his eyes in gratitude Cyclops gathered himself and reached for the intercom.

 

“All X-Men to the ready room. Code red.”

 

*

The tunnel shook violently, cracks spreading across the ceiling and floor threatening their footing. Remy boosted the last of the children up into Storm’s waiting clasp and made to follow after when a sudden spike of anger twisted him around to see Wolverine shove his lover into the wall.

 

“Hey! Que continue?” Reaching their side he made to pull Cyclops away, but the brunette twisted free.

 

“Gambit, get back topside. You, too, Logan, that’s an order.”

 

“You first, Slim,” the feral mutant growled, head mulishly lowered.

 

“Bien, we all exit, eh?” Remy looked between the other men, knowing there was something he wasn’t being told. The tunnel ominously rumbled again and Scott cursed.

 

“Get going, dammit! I’ll be a few minutes behind you, Remy. I just need to see if anyone else can be saved.”

 

“All that’s left is the scum that took these kids, Slim!” Wolverine snapped. “Let ém die!”

 

“No!” Scott stubbornly shook his head. 

 

“Cyclops?” Storm’s voice echoed down the ventilation hole, unaware of the reason for their delay. “You must hurry!

 

“Dammit!” Cyclops tried to again shove past the burlier Wolverine, but the older man was resolute. “Let me pass!”

 

“Non, Scottie,” Remy sadly whispered, catching his lover’s arm and spinning him about. “Sleep, cher.”

 

Scott jerked free, an angry retort opening his mouth, but then buckled, the light of his visor flickering out as his knees folded. Remy and Logan both jumped forward to catch him.

 

“What the hell did you do, Cajun?” Logan growled, automatically checking for a pulse before shrugging their field leader over one shoulder.

 

Remy ran ahead, shouting, “He sleep, non? We escape now, make apologies later.” Easily boosting himself to safety, he shook off Ororo’s hands and crouched to pull up his lover’s dead weight.

 

“By the Goddess!” the African exclaimed at the sight of Cyclop’s unconscious form. “Is he seriously injured?”

 

“Non, non, just jogged,” Remy absently reassured, hefting Scott’s weight as he attempted a graceful stand. It had been too easy and had yet taken more of him than he’d expected to force his lover into a deep sleep. He’d completely shut Scott down, mind and body, and it scared him to realize a little more force could have killed the precious weight he carried. Yet what other choice was there? Let Scott risk his life to save the worst kind of scum, child abusers? Or wait for Wolverine to lose his patience and cold cock him? Scott’s rash heroics were his problem to deal with and he’d not let another make the hard decisions for him.

 

The thief did not wait for Wolverine, quickly making his way to the waiting Blackbird. Kitty Pryde raised her eyebrows but didn’t comment, occupied with her pre-flight checks. Dumping his weight into a window seat, Remy buckled Scott in before slumping into the seat next to him. A moment to catch his breath and then he fumbled for the seat adjustment, reclining his back until he could easily guide Scott’s head onto his lap. Mahogany locks curled about his fingers and he closed his eyes to enjoy the peace of the moment, knowing it was brief respite before the storm.

 

*

After delivering the children to Valerie Cooper and a waiting squad of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, the X-Men turned for home. Despite Remy’s assurances that Scott was fine Ororo ordered him to take his lover to the medical lab to be checked over by the Beast. Stepping to the side after gently laying Scott onto a bed under Hank’s guidance Remy wrapped his arms about himself as Slim began to stir. He couldn’t stop his trembling and so tried to hide it, the enormity of the sin he had committed tearing into his fragile conscience.

 

“Well, he seems unharmed and is coming around. Slim, can you hear me?” Hank kept his thumb pressed to the inside of Scott’s wrist, his other fingers wrapping about his hand to soothingly rub his palm.

 

“Hank?” Scott mumbled, a thin line of red appearing across his goggles as he sluggishly tried to move. Sheets rustled as his legs jerked and he tried to sit up. Hank’s free hand to the center of his chest easily pinned him, however, and he subsided with a frustrated sigh. “What happened?”

 

“Nothing amiss, I am certain. You most likely just took a knock. Remy tells me that that tunnel was in imminent risk of collapse.” A gentle pat and the Beast ambled away to his flasks and burners. “Give yourself a few minutes and Remy can take you away for some tender loving care.” The clear blast door that separated his lab from the rest of the medical facility slid shut with a hiss of air and Scott rolled his head to see his boyfriend hidden in the corner.

 

“Remy?” The thief watched his lover, felt his confusion and light wash of fear. Felt when the memories came rolling back and his too intelligent mind connected the dots. Saw his flinch and the way his entire body tensed for a blow that had already been dealt.

 

“Scottie, cher,” Remy shuffled forward, had to touch his lover, but Scott scrambled away, falling off the bed and scuttling backwards.

 

“You bastard! Stay the fuck away from me!” His hurt stabbed into Remy deeper than any blade and the empath gasped at the suddenness of the pain. “How could you? I trusted you, dammit! Trusted you not to fuck with me!”

 

“Cher, Remy know Scottie upset, but what you plannin’ was suicide! Remy sorry-”

 

“No! No apologies!” Scott clutched at his head, pacing before his equally distraught lover. “You’re in my head! Please don’t do this to me! You can’t, you . . .”

 

“I can’t lose you, cher!” Angling around the bed, Remy caught one of Slim’s arms, swinging him about to confront him though the brunette kept his face turned away. “Dose men, dey didn’t deserve your life. No one does. I love you, I say it aloud, non? I lose my head, thinkin’ I lose you, a cost too high for so little.”

 

Scott did look at him then and Remy stood firm against the battering of confusion, surprise and most deadly of all, an equal depth of desire. “Remy?”

 

He stroked a golden cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Remy can’t lose you.” Whisper soft and Scott leaned closer to hear. “What heart dis ol’ thief has is yours. You play cruel wit’ it when you pull stunts like dat. Remy has so little to give to love. Lose you and he got nothin’ left.”

 

“You took away my right to choose, Remy, my control.”

 

“And what choice did you leave me?” Remy fired back.

 

“W-what?” Scott stuttered.

 

“Did you not hear? I love you. Never said dose words before. Never felt dose words before. It breaks Remy’s heart dey mean so little you can so easily throw dem away. Drive a man to do things dat tear him apart inside.”

 

That stopped his lover. Scott froze, Remy’s emotions laid bare before him: hurt, betrayal, fear, guilt. Love. “Remy, I’m so sorry. This is real, isn’t it?” he whispered, trembling fingers pressing to the red head’s chest. 

 

Remy caught up those thin fingers within his own and brought them to his lips. “Very real for me, Scottie. You are my heart, my world. I say it in English, French, whatever language your ears want to hear. Won’t change de words.”

 

“No, it won’t,” Scott breathed, tears coursing his cheeks as he pressed up into Remy’s warmth. “My world, too.”

 

*

Epilogue.

The BMW slowly rolled down the long drive leading to the Victorian mansion set back among the cherry blossom trees. 

 

“Look, there’s Scott.” Alex Summers pointed to the gracile figure walking across the lawn towards one of the trees, a smallish sized soccer ball in his hands. He was dressed in a simple pair of cut off jersey shorts, showing off the lithely muscled physique that had earned him the name ‘Slim’. They couldn’t see who he was headed towards, but his playful grin was easy enough to read.

 

“He looks good,” Warren commented, blue eyes shuttered. On the drive up from New York city they had both expressed their guilt at leaving Scott to return to their own lives after Jean’s death. It was reassuring to see he’d apparently coped with the support of the rest of the team. As the car rolled to a stop they watched a bare, obviously masculine arm reach out from the tree and grab Scott by the front of his shirt, yanking him forward. The ball fell to roll into the leaves piled against the tree’s base. “Who the hell . . .”

 

Warren’s question was soon answered as Scott stumbled back into view, laughing as he tugged another after him. To the shock and horror of the two men in the car watching, Remy LeBeau followed. A shuffle of limbs and Remy had the brunette back in his arms, mouths locking together as the thief thrust a denim covered leg between tanned thighs. Scott locked his arms around Remy’s neck and held on as the red head spun them around.

“Holy fuck!” Alex exclaimed, scrambling for his seatbelt’s release. “What the fuck is that lowlife piece of shit doing kissing my brother?”

 

Out under the cherry blossom trees Remy broke away from that luscious mouth as he looked towards the drive and smiled.

 

The End.

 

Sneak peak: the opening scene of the yet done sequel. Really, it’s little more than a PWP, so enjoy!

 

A door closed out in the hall, a vibration that was felt more than heard. For the two men in the bed, the noise went completely unnoticed. With his back against the headboard Remy watched his lover slink up the long length of his legs, mouth and hands making his flesh tighten and tremble. Streaks of chocolate could still be found and Scott was determined to explore every crease until he had his fill of his dessert. His tongue pressed into the fold where Remy’s thigh met his hip, completely ignoring the leaking erection twitching centimeters from his face. The redhead’s hands spasmed in the sheets and his control snapped.

 

“Mon Dieu, Scottie, gotta have you,” he husked, catching his lover under his arms and yanking him up. The brunette’s mouth honed in on his, sharing the aftertaste of imported chocolate liqueur. Legs fell to either side of his, golden and alabaster flesh sliding slickly together as Scott settled into his lap, penis rubbing into his stomach as his own cock unerringly parted the other man’s ass cheeks. His cockhead leaked over the start of the brunette’s crack, juices running back down and over the sharp curves of his beloved’s angular hips and ass.

 

Scott moaned and undulated, teasing Remy’s cock until the younger man clutched at his hips. “Keep that up and Remy gonna ride you dry.” An empty threat since he’d never risk hurting his lover, but he didn’t know how long his control was going to hold out being bombarded by not only his own lust, but Scott’s as well. Lips parted and Scott reared back, rich mahogany curls fanning the air as he whipped his head.

 

“You promised,” Scott reminded him, soft voice going straight to the former thief’s groin. “My birthday, my way.” Up on his knees the brunette stroked his stomach, long fingers sweeping up to pinch a nipple before sliding all the way to his decadent mouth, digits slipping in to suck for any traces of chocolate. His erect cock bobbed in front of the red head’s face. Remy swallowed. Scott sure had gained in confidence when it came to exhibiting his sexuality.

 

And it was all his own fault for letting Slim feel just what he did to his more experienced lover.

 

“Oui, your way, amour,” Remy husked.

 

The admission earned him a boyish grin. “Good. Give me the lube.” An imperious palm was held out and Remy gladly surrendered the crinkled tube, watching in rapt attention as Scott coated his own fingers. The tube dropped to the mattress and Remy helped to steady the kneeling man, eyes glued to his face. He could feel Scott’s bravado, his embarrassment tinged lust as he wiggled a finger into his tight ass, but he thrilled watching that bottom lip draw back between his teeth more. Another was quickly added, the brunette’s breath hitching as he felt the burn that months of being mounted hadn’t dulled. 

 

When the third finger started to work its way in too soon, Remy grabbed onto his wrist. “Wanna watch you for a bit, cher.”

 

“O-okay,” Slim blushed but didn’t try to pull away, letting Remy direct the force of his thrusts. A strong hand settled onto his shoulder to help balance the lean body and for a few minutes Remy enjoyed the show. Quietly he ordered Scott to spread or crook his fingers, wanting him to feel his muscles loosen, the pleasure he could bring himself. Then Remy opened his mouth and sucked in the dark pink cock, sliding his own finger in to thrust alongside Scott’s. “Remy!” the brunette squealed, nails digging into his shoulder.

 

The redhead hummed in response, the fine control of his empathy keeping them on the edge of release. Using his nail he scraped his lover’s prostate and tightened his grip on his wrist, forcing Scott to keep his fingers inside his contracting channel. Slim thrust forward, twisting in his grasp as he cried out, and Remy let his cock slip into his throat.

 

Orgasm broke free of Remy’s control. Scott shuddered and sobbed, his load shooting down Remy’s throat with a scalding of heat. The empath gloried in his lover’s ecstasy, feeding it into his own and sending it back. Caught in Remy’s carefully constructed loop Scott spasmodically jerked, head tossed back as he soundlessly screamed, pleasure just hinting of pain rolling through him until he finally blacked out.

 

It was nearly ten minutes before the older mutant stirred, moaning softly at the feel of Remy’s fingers opening his ass. Another hand tilted his head back to receive an oddly chaste kiss, the ex-thief’s deep voice an indistinct rumble in his ears. Before he was even fully cognizant he was being lifted, fingers giving way to something much longer. “Yesss,” he hissed, arching to take more in. Not only did Remy have three inches on him when fully erect, the Cajun was of a perfect thickness, stretching Scott’s hole to a delicious fullness that bordered pain. When Scott could take him all the way in it was like he could be felt in his stomach on the other side. The man really was built to fuck.

 

Reaching down Scott felt where his lover was sunk into his body, a few inches still bared. He frowned at the slippery feel of latex, realizing Remy had sheathed himself while he was still coming down from his first orgasm. Rising up on his knees he had to stretch to pop the redhead’s dick out of his hole, but Remy’s grip on his hips stopped him.

 

“Cher, what is wrong? I feel no pain.”

 

Scott shook his head. “Let me go and take off the condom, Rem’.” He tried wiggling free but Remy started to pull him back down.

 

“Non, Scottie, condom is to keep you safe. Remy slept with too many people to risk you, yes?”

 

“Remy, don’t be an idiot,” Scott snapped. “You think this is a spur of the moment thing? You get a check up every month, just like the rest of us, and if you had anything, trust me, Hank would know. And as your field leader who has to sign off on your physical every month, so would I.” Seeing his lover’s mouth agape stare he gentled his tone, smiling as he stroked the lightly stubbled cheeks. “I trust you not to cheat on me and I think you know I’m pretty much a one lover type of guy, so trust me on this? We’ve been solid for six months, Remy. If you had anything, Hank’s advanced alien doodads would have spotted it days after you contracted it. We’re safe. I want to feel you.”

 

He spoke the last sentence slowly, punctuating each word with a gentle kiss until Remy’s eyes squeezed closed. When the red eyes opened they were wet with tears and he pulled the lanky brunette into a hard, possessive kiss. “Love you, Scottie. Sit up for me?” Scott nodded and Remy eased his length from the tight channel, quickly stripping off the condom before guiding his lover back down. Without the barrier of the latex the sensitive head of his cock felt everything and the empath groaned. “That’s it, bebe, take it all.”

 

Scott put a hand to his belly, half expecting to feel a protrusion, but then Remy lifted his hips and dropped him. He cried out and curled his fingers into Remy’s long hair, holding on as he flexed his thighs and started to ride his lover in earnest. The ex-thief was sucking on his neck, hands everywhere and it wasn’t long before he was coming again, spasming around the shaft impaling him. His seed coated both of their stomachs and then he felt it, a warmth exploding inside him as Remy shot deep into his body. More than all of the love bites and bruises, he finally felt claimed.

 

When he could breathe with only a slight hitch Remy moved them, pulling out and stretching towards the end of the bed. He dragged Scott with him, spooning them front to back before thrusting his still hard penis back home. His circling arm beneath caught up both of Scott’s wrists, his other hand going to his crotch. Scott sobbed as Remy started to fuck him again, slow and long thrusts that matched the hand on his dick. He let his forehead rest on their clasped hands and felt a mouth latch onto the nape of his neck.

 

“Happy Birthday, Scottie.”

 

Slow and sweet and Scott let Remy do the work, comforted by the gentle rocking into his body. “It’s not my real birthday. Did you know that?”

 

“Hank said it was. You all pullin’ Remy’s leg?”

 

“No. In the orphanages, one more year wasn’t something to celebrate,” Scott quietly explained. “After I ran away . . . Today is the day the professor found me.”

 

One more breadcrumb, one more little secret clue to what lay behind the straight laced leader’s mask. Remy knew what kind of gift he was being given and he let Scott feel his gratitude at the showing of trust. “Then that’s somethin’ we share, Scottie. When de ti’ves guild found lil’ Remy, didna know what a birt’day was. Jean-Luc, my pere, he picked a day on the year for Remy. Don’ even know how old I really am.”

 

Scott panted softly at the continued ministrations to his prostate, but his eyes tried to search out his lover’s. “When’s your birthday, Remy?”

 

“Tink you can give me a better present than this, cher, having you all night?” Remy teased, kissing across Scott’s sweaty flesh. 

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” the brunette teased back, wiggling into his crotch, “I seem to remember refusing any public sex. For your birthday I might relax that rule.”

 

“August 8th,” Remy promptly answered, his pistoning cock giving a strong twitch as he immediately thought of all the places he would love to take his lover. If a public place was his present every birthday he’d be an old man before he ran out of ideas. A really old man.

 

*

That's it for now! Thanks for all the fish!


End file.
